Made of Stars
by sponsormusings
Summary: They were made from every star that had ever been wished on, assigned to those deemed worthy of a gift. They were often described as figments of imagination, a story to tell children to make them believe in happy endings. But sometimes, the fantastical is as real as the sun that sets & rises. An Everlark tale, inspired by Disney's 'Aladdin'. A submission for PiP, March 2014. Day 3.
1. Chapter 1

_His fingers closed over the elegantly curved doorknob, cold and smooth against his skin; when it turned easily in his hand, he breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't that he didn't believe his brother, exactly, but from the rust that had almost obscured the brass lock from his eyes and the cobwebs that had danced through his hair as he'd crept through the dark, it was obvious that it had been a long time since someone had ventured down the tunnel. And he'd wondered if he'd come this far for nothing._

_But the middle Mellark brother - dictated at birth to be a troublemaker, deemed by the Scrolls to be an envoy instead of King - had proven his words true this time. Pushing open the door with only a slight creak to mar the quiet night, Peeta stepped out into the cool evening air. Freedom a balm on his tongue, the moonlight a glimmer of excitement in his eyes, he wished for a moment that the brothers' roles were reversed._

_But wishes were never granted, and his role in Panem had been determined a long time ago._

_Wrapping the long black coat he wore tighter around him, and yanking the black knit cap down over his blond waves, he crept into the shadows and melted into the dark. Tonight, he wasn't Peeta Mellark. Tonight, he didn't even have a name._

* * *

By all accounts, the evening was still young. People danced and ate and drank in the streets, a whirlwind of colour and action that he never saw in the mansion. It was normally all pomp and circumstance and obligations there, dished out genially by his father, or more threateningly by his mother. His brothers - so rarely at home with the roles they had been pre-destined to fill - were the ones travelling to the ends of the country, and protecting the borders from those outside. His own days were spent studying, and learning, and preparing for the role he had been born for.

But he yearned for the excitement that his brothers had experienced, yearned for a life outside the mansion.

A burst of laughter from an alleyway startled him, and he turned, blue eyes wide and bright in the streetlights. A curvy blonde caught his eye as she sashayed past, turning slightly on her heel to wink lasciviously at him. He swallowed heavily, but allowed his lips to turn up in a small smile in return. She giggled, then continued on her way - he couldn't help but watch her hips sway as she walked. No one in the mansion walked like that. His older brother's wife didn't walk like that, but then again he'd never really looked at her that way.

Tucking his hands in his pockets, Peeta wished he'd had the foresight to bring some coin with him, the smells from the restaurants tantalising, the bright lights of stores and entertainment venues beckoning him in. He'd never been in a District this late at night and was amazed at how alive it felt. He'd only been out at night in the Capitol itself a half dozen times and even then it had been short, accompanied by 3 security officers and his father, with very little time to explore of his own will.

But tonight, even if he couldn't buy anything, eat anything or enter into any of the entertainment venues, it didn't matter. He was free - even if for just a short while - and he would enjoy it as much as he could. The feeling of anticipation and excitement coursing through his veins was enough for him.

* * *

Her stomach grumbled, but that was nothing new. Katniss Everdeen couldn't remember the last time it hadn't ached with emptiness, the last day she hadn't felt at least a little hungry. Most days they were able to get by, making the most of the wild animals that crept into their district, harvesting the edible plants that grew in the small meadow that ran along part of one of their borders. With little rain, though, and an entire district on the edge of starvation, the animals had already been eaten or had disappeared into neighbouring districts, and the meagre meadow picked clean.

The sight of her sister's collarbone almost protruding right through her pale flesh that morning had spurred her into action. She knew it was dangerous, but it was either this, or death. And she would rather risk it than leave any of them to that eventuality if it could be prevented.

Wrapping her worn, threadbare coat around her, she slid close to the brick wall, thankful the moon was hidden for the moment behind thick, dark, clouds. She'd traveled as far north in Twelve as she was willing to go before crossing the boundary, and now was less than 500 meters into District One; but she could already smell, see, practically _feel_ the difference. The air was cleaner, and the grass she'd crossed had been fresh, and full of dandelions. She could smell the smoke that meant fires burning in hearths, and the fragrant aroma of meat simmering in rich sauces. This was the reason she'd chosen to sneak through to One rather than Eleven - the bounty at her fingertips was much more plentiful than the fields of Eleven which - she'd heard - were as dry and fruitless as their own land. It was a far more beneficial choice to slip through the fence into One - so long as she didn't get caught.

She'd never ventured this far into a neighbouring district before.

Peering around a corner before stepping out, she was pleased to see a small bakery across the street, its windows shuttered and the lights off. If she could sneak out behind the back, there could very well be ruined or out of date loaves of bread dumped in the trash cans - and bread was easily concealable in the pockets of her pants and jacket.

Her tread was light, her feet barely touching the ground as she darted across the cobbled walkway. She ignored a burst of laughter from streets away, and breathed a sigh of relief as she she made it to the alley that lined the side of the bakery without being seen. The trash cans were exactly where she expected them to be - the same place that they were kept beside the aging bakery in her own district - and she mentally crossed her fingers as she gently lifted the lid. The first smile to cross her lips in days appeared as she saw the two abandoned loaves resting on the top, a little burned, but otherwise completely edible. She and mother and Prim could feast on this for days if they rationed it right.

Quickly stuffing one into the inside of her jacket, she held the other tightly in her hand - it was far too big to fit in the other pocket, but she'd risk it. A full belly for all three of them made it worth it. She began to replace the lid when what sounded like a gunshot echoed through the streets; her head flew up, and the lid slipped from her fingers with a clash and a clatter to the ground.

The lights in the bakery flicked on instantaneously.

With a curse, she shot out of the alley, getting caught up in a group of people throwing firecrackers onto the ground, dancing around the coloured snaps and sparks. She pushed her way through, but still heard the shouts, the accusations of "_Seam rat!_" and "_Thief!_". But she ignored them, and kept running through the streets, around the people oblivious to her plight, with the pounding of feet on the pavement behind her. _They were gaining, and gaining and gaining_-

With a thud, she slammed into a strong chest, firm arms clasping at her shoulders. She tried to shake them off, her heart pounding in terror, but all she succeeded in doing was dropping the bread to the ground at her feet. _Shit._

"Let me go," she hissed, staring up into a face that was shrouded by the dark of night except for the bright blue eyes that stared back at her. She half twisted in his arms, to see two men still forcing their way through the crowd, which had suddenly multiplied with the pulsing sounds of music from a trio of men with instruments. "Let me _go_!"

He shook his head, before sliding a hand down her arm and interlacing his fingers with hers, drawing her back into the crowd. They slipped and pivoted around people, and though everything inside her screamed to get away, to shake off this guy who had a firm and warm grip on her hand, she found she couldn't. She only hoped she could trust him, that he was actually helping her, and not leading her into a trap.

Whirling them around a corner, her breath caught in her throat as she was pressed up against a wall; without missing a beat, he cupped his hands around her cheeks and kissed her. Kissed her as though his life depended on it, kissed her as though it was the last kiss he would ever have.

His lips were warm and soft on hers, his breath gentle against her cheek. His thumbs stroked along her cheekbone, down to her jaw, to the small pressure point below her ear. Her hands reached involuntarily for the back of his neck, and the tufts of golden curls that poked out under the wool cap; soon she couldn't breathe, couldn't think. She could barely stand.

_She vaguely thought that maybe making out at the slag heap had some merit._

She pressed herself closer to him, the warmth of his body as appealing as the way he made her heart pound. His tongue slid along the bow peak of her upper lip, and she couldn't help the moan that echoed from her mouth. He swallowed it, quieting the night, and in the stillness she heard feet thunder past, then dim and echo down the street. With it, he pulled away, his mouth leaving hers with a final soft, gentle pull on her bottom lip.

"Sorry about that," he murmured, his fingers drifting down her neck, and she could feel her pulse hammer under his touch. "But I figured it would be the only way they wouldn't spot us."

"I, uh…." she trailed off, unsure what to say to the stranger in front of her. _He was saying sorry for kissing her like that? _"Thank you?"

"Is that a question?" he replied, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"N-no, if course not," she stammered. Then she took a deep breath, and slid her hands from his neck to his chest, pushing him away. It was as if it had suddenly hit her, how close they were in proximity to each other. "Thank you. But I could have gotten away very well on my own."

"I don't doubt it," he said, tucking his tongue firmly in cheek. "Probably better than if I hadn't gotten in your way."

"Probably," she retorted. She felt the tension in her shoulders begin to rise - she couldn't help it. It happened every time anyone made fun of her, and she had the distinct feeling this stranger was doing just that.

"But at least you're safe now," he told her gently, as if sensing her shift in mood. "What were they after you for?"

Shrugging, and figuring she had nothing to lose, held open the side of her jacket to show him the bread. "I was a little hungry."

"You stole it?" His mouth dropped open in surprise.

"Yes," she snapped. "I can't afford to buy food, so I do what I gotta do."

"But everyone in One is well fed and can afford food," he said in confusion.

"Yeah, well I'm not from One either." The moment the words slipped from her mouth, she regretted them. Not only had she admitted to this guy - a complete and utter stranger - that she'd stolen bread, but that she'd broken the cardinal rule of crossing over into another district. _There was no way he wouldn't feel obligated to turn her in now._

Instead, she was surprised when he reached for her hand again, drawing her deeper into the alleyway until they reached a small gate. Pushing the wrought iron open, she realised they were in a small courtyard, surrounded by lush plants and a fountain in the centre, a man wielding a trident and only a net to cover his modesty atop the marble base. He gestured for her to take a seat, dropping beside her the moment she did.

Leaning forward so that his elbows rested on his knees, he turned to her. "So what's your name?"

* * *

Her eyes had been silver, and they'd cut through him like a knife. They'd stared up at him, full of terror and fear and, in complete contrast to the other two, _hope_. Everything in his heart had bloomed and shattered and tugged all at once and he couldn't think of doing anything but helping her. From what, he didn't know. It didn't matter.

He'd never kissed anyone before, had simply gone on instinct. He hadn't really set out to kiss her senseless, her lips dry and faintly tasting of mint, and his heart pounding out of his chest, his stomach curling in anticipation. But he had, until the footsteps that had been bearing down on them had receded into the distance.

Now he sat beside her in an empty courtyard he'd spied as he'd walked through the alleys, waiting patiently as her hands twisted in her lap, as she glanced around warily.

"Katniss," She finally sighed. "My name is Katniss."

"And where are you from, if you're not from One?"

"What does it matter?"

"Because I want to know a little about the woman I helped tonight." _Because I want to know about the woman who slayed me with nothing but her eyes_.

"I'm from Twelve," she murmured.

Peeta closed his eyes, remembered the lessons his Governess had taken him through all through his schooling so far. The map of Panem - each District shaped almost exactly like a wedge in a pie, the gleaming Capitol a perfect circle in the centre - came to mind and his heart sank as he remembered Ms Trinket's off-the-cuff description of the final district. "Coal mining, right? That's your district's primary labour?" She nodded, and it made sense. _Of course she was starving. That district was the most downtrodden of all, and for many years, the Capitol had simply stopped paying them attention. His mother had often commented they were barely good enough to provide the coal they produced, and little was done to make their lives any easier. _"Isn't it dangerous for you to be here?"

Katniss rolled her eyes, resting her palms on the cool marble bench and leaning back slightly. "Absolutely. But faced with dying of starvation or taking a risk? I don't have much of an option." She eyed him warily. "What's it to you, anyway? You're from here, it shouldn't matter a thing."

"I…" Peeta trailed off, unsure of what to say. How could he explain to her that he was from the most well off family in the entirety of Panem, the worry of hunger and dying from it the furthest thing from his mind? "I'm not from this part of town," he finally said vaguely. "And I guess I just don't like to see or hear about inequality."

She rose, securely tugging her jacket around her. "Well, unless you're the King, buddy, there isn't much you can do about it. Now I gotta get going, before-" His hand shot out before he could stop it, his fingers looping around her wrist.

"Don't go," he murmured.

"Why?"

"Because…" _We only just met? _"I want to know more about you." _I want to know everything about you_.

"I have nothing to tell you," she mumbled, though he could see the pink beginning to stain her cheeks, the pink that had risen and bloomed when he'd first kissed her.

"Everyone always has something to tell. Even if it's something simple."

"Like what?" She challenged.

"Favourite colour," he retorted.

"Green."

"Favourite activity?"

"Shooting an arrow out of a bow. At annoying boys," she snapped.

He laughed. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" Peeta smiled, bright and big, one he was ashamed to admit that he used on Ms Trinket when he wanted his own way. Katniss blinked, two torturously slow blinks, while her eyes widened.

She took a step or two back. "I...I need to go. My family will worry if I don't return home."

Katniss turned to the gate a half second before it was flung open.

* * *

She didn't know what was making her heart pound more; the way the blue eyed man's smile had practically seared into her soul, or the two imposing Peacekeepers in front of her, their white uniforms almost blinding in the dim courtyard.

"Thief!" One of them accused gruffly, grasping her arm tightly. She gasped, tried to yank her arm free, to no avail. His grip was tight, his fingers digging into her flesh through the thin fabric of her clothes. But she didn't say a word, refused to.

She didn't want to give them the benefit of her begging.

"You know what happens to thieves," the other said forcefully, pulling her jacket open and yanking out the bread from the inner pocket. "Straight to the stocks!"

Katniss swallowed heavily, eyes staring straight ahead towards the man who had already saved her once. She couldn't expect him to do it again. She felt them tug her backwards towards the gate, her gaze dropping to the ground before she stumbled over her own feet in the darkness.

"Stop!" His voice was loud and as clear as a bell, and she raised her eyes; she watched in surprise as he yanked the black cap off his head, blonde hair spilling out. "Let her go!"

The arms around her loosened immediately, and she fell to the ground, her knees weak and limp. But she heard the response clear as a bell, despite the roaring in her head and the pounding of her blood through her veins.

"Our apologies, Your Highness."

_Your Highness?_

Her eyes locked with the young man's, and they glittered in the night, the blonde waves about his head glowing like a halo. His jaw was set firm, his lips pressed in a commanding line.

_Oh no._

_How could she have been so stupid not to see, not to know? It was so obviously Peeta Mellark._

"I'm sorry, Your Highness, but we have orders to follow. You're aware of the laws, I'm sure," one of the men said bluntly. He was middle aged, with salt and pepper hair and a hard look in his eye.

"I am aware of the laws. But I _am_ also the future King. And therefore I request that you release this woman. She has done nothing wrong but wish to fill her belly."

The Peacekeeper scowled. "Which leads me to my second point - she is obviously not from here, and therefore is trespassing in another district. And that, Your Highness, is something we can't overlook."

Peeta waved a hand. "Stop calling me Your Highness, please." But he sighed, his eyes darting down and locking with Katniss'. "But you're right. Something needs to be done. Organise...organise for her to be escorted back to her district."

"But Your-"

"That's what I want," Peeta said abruptly. "Send her back to her district. With an escort. And the bread."

"Master Advisor Snow won't be happy with this," the gruff Peacekeeper warned.

"That's my burden to bear and my issue to deal with," Peeta replied warily. "Now call for the District Twelve Escort and have them meet us here. Immediately."

Katniss knew the Peacekeepers didn't agree with Peeta's demands, could feel the frustration emanating off them like heat. But the younger of the two dutifully reached into a discreet pocket of his hard-shelled jacket, pulled out a slim communicator. She heard him mumbling, the words he spoke obscured from her by his back, while the older man stalked over to Peeta, hissing in his ear angrily. She didn't tempt herself to stand, or move, or run. Right now, she was being given free passage back to Twelve, with little punishment.

And she had the future king of Panem to thank for it.

* * *

"I'm sorry I couldn't do more for you," Peeta said quietly moments later, kneeling down so that he was at her level. Katniss raised her eyes, scanning over to the two Peacekeepers who now guarded the gate, before biting her lip.

"You've done more than enough," she told him. "I…I…_thank you_." The words trailed off in a whisper, and he felt his heart turn over in his chest. He hadn't done enough. Not nearly enough. And here she was, thanking him for a simple loaf of bread and a trip back to Twelve.

"Will you be ok?"

"I'll be fine," she replied. They both sat there in silence, and he wished he knew what to say. What he wanted to say - _he wanted to tell her that her eyes were beautiful, that her determination was amazing, that he wanted to get to know her better _- wasn't suitable right now, wasn't something he felt right in saying.

But it didn't stop him thinking about it.

He watched as the District Twelve escort finally appeared - a man unsteady on his feet, with a face shadowed by a three day growth and a jacket that smelled like it had seen better days - and discussed the task at hand with the two Peacekeepers. The man gave him a tip of the head that managed to be both honouring and insolent, and had to hold back a snort. If Deliah Mellark - the current reigning monarch with her husband - had encountered this man, he would have been sent back to Twelve with his tail between his legs and no job to speak of.

They left, one final glance from Katniss over her shoulder shaking him to the core.

He hoped and wished with everything inside him that he would see her again one day.

* * *

It took her less than 10 minutes to figure it out, but she knew it like she knew what time the sun would rise, knew it like she knew how her arrow would hit the bullseye she'd painted on trees with berry juice.

"I don't know who the hell you are, but you're not an escort," she snapped, whirling on him and pointing a finger in his face. "I've seen Twelve's escort, and it _isn't_ you. Who the hell are you, and where are you taking me?"

He laughed, a throaty, scratchy sound that really didn't sound like a laugh at all. "Well aren't you observant. Of course I'm not a damned escort. Do you think I'd do something as weak-piss as that?"

"I don't know, because I _don't know you_." They'd left the cobbled streets of One behind, and were now beginning the trek through the woods that would lead her back to Twelve. "But if you're here to kill me, do it now and get it over with."

The man - apparently named Haymitch, from what she'd overheard the Peacekeepers say - snorted. "If I wanted to kill you, sweetheart, I just would have done away with the lot of you back in that courtyard." He brushed his hair out of his eyes, and shrugged. "I got no secrets, and I've gotta tell you sooner or later. So, if you must know...I'm a genie."

Katniss laughed; she couldn't help it. It fell from her lips, almost choked the breath out of her. "How drunk are you? You've got to be kidding me."

He scowled. "Does this look like the face of a man who likes to make jokes?"

Katniss studied the man from the top of his bedraggled, chin length hair the colour of soot, to the tip of the well-worn boots that ensconced his feet. His demeanor was hostile, his eyes narrowed. _No, he definitely didn't_. _Maybe….maybe he was telling the truth. Stranger things had happened in Panem over the years._

"Well?" He snapped, folding his arms across his chest. "Done looking?"

Katniss shrugged. "You're just...not exactly what I imagined you'd look like."

He barked out a laugh, and the stale smell of liquor bottled for years wafted around him. "You spend a lot of time thinking about what genies look like, sweetheart?"

"No, but….genie's don't _really_ exist," she insisted. Then her brow furrowed in consternation. "Do they?"

He sighed in frustration. "Quit arguing and just believe me. I'm a genie, and that's all there is to it. Do you want the spiel? We're made up of every star ever wished on and...oh, blah blah blah, who cares. For some reason, I've been assigned to you."

"Assigned...assigned to me?"

"To possibly my everlasting regret. Yes, assigned to you til I've done my job. Someone out there thinks you deserve three wishes, and I'm here to grant them." He reached into the pocket of his jacket, unscrewed the top off of a small flask, and raised it to his lips, swallowing deeply. "But, if you're gonna get all caught up on semantics, you can call me your Mentor instead. Sound better?"

She nodded dumbly. She didn't know what else to do.

_She had a genie?_

* * *

A/N - Thank you for reading! This PiP submission will be continued with a few more chapters in the near future :)


	2. Chapter 2

"Peeta Mellark, you are the future ruler of this country. What kind of impression do you think your _gallivanting _around Panem gives, on you and on this family?"

"I apologise." He folded his hands deferentially, though he felt anything but.

"You _apologise_?" The retort was bitter, venomous and laced with contempt - nothing outside of the usual.

Deliah Mellark, ruling Queen of Panem, stood in front of the wide double doors that looked out over the Capitol, her hands firmly on her hips and her lips pursed in a blood red pout. Peeta's return to the mansion after his escape into One had not been pleasant, and he'd spent the last 20 minutes going around in circles while his mother berated him and his father simply looked on, disappointment clear on his face.

"I'm sorry," Peeta reiterated and lowered his eyes to the ground. "I just wanted to...experience one of the Districts."

"Peeta, that's what we have bodyguards and protocol for," his father, Nolan, said calmly from the velvet high-backed chair that he'd favoured for as long as Peeta could remember. "We do that for your safety, protection and wellbeing."

"But I never get to go out there," he argued, lifting his eyes and his hands imploringly. "How am I supposed to rule this country one day if I'm never allowed to go out, even _with_ guards?!"

"And that's obviously for good reason," Deliah snapped. "Look what happens to you when you _do_ go out there! You get brought back to the mansion by Peacekeepers - after letting a criminal go, no less."

Peeta's jaw firmed, his eyes flashed. "The girl did nothing wrong," he said firmly. "The course of action I took was appropriate. I sent her back to her own district with the relevant escort, who will provide her with explicit instructions never to return." _To his everlasting regret._

"She should have been brought to the authorities; you know that Your Highness." Peeta turned at the voice; it was deep and modulated, with a slight edge to it that always hinted at something sinister.

Master Advisor Snow stood framed in the doorway, the hair as white as his name swept back from his forehead. His slim, almost fragile body was clad in a burgundy coat that fell to his knees and was embellished with one simple white rose at his breast pocket. His dark, emotionless eyes revealed nothing of his inner thoughts.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Advisor Snow, but I did what I thought was for the best," Peeta managed to mutter as politely as possible.

"You know the laws and regulations," Snow reminded him, his eyebrow rising infinitesimally in judgement. "You should be thoroughly familiar with them by now."

"I am. However, it is also the responsibility of a ruler - or future ruler - to make sound judgements he believes to be correct in a particular situation. I've read that in my study books as well." Peeta didn't break eye contact with the man, though he hated to admit that inside he was shaking. There was something about the man who was Deliah and Nolan's most respected advisor that he simply didn't trust.

Snow pressed his lips together. "I concede your point, Your Highness. Regardless-"

"May I go now? I know I did wrong, I regret my actions, I won't do it again." Peeta interrupted. He knew he sounded like a stroppy teenager, but he didn't need to hear any more of this tonight and definitely didn't need to be lectured any more than he already had.

"No you-"

"Yes." Nolan cut his wife off, their eyes locking in a battle of wills over their youngest son. "You may go. But I don't want to hear of you sneaking out again. You have responsibilities to uphold, a nation to prepare for leading. You cannot afford slights of behaviour like this."

"Yes Father," Peeta replied with a short nod, then turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, ignoring the eyes of both his mother and the advisor that bore into his back as he went.

The elegant hallways were long, and decorated as befitting a ruling family. Gilt edged mirrors and embellished frames that encased portraits of the current Mellarks and those before them, along with soft, intricately patterned rugs that his feet sunk into. Glossy mahogany tables topped with statuary and useless trinkets lined up along the walls, curtains thick and a shade of deep purple framed windows that looked out onto gardens or a pool or the Capitol itself.

Everything about it made Peeta feel like he was suffocating.

His life as he knew it had begun when his brother turned 12, the day the Scrolls deemed Aaran Mellark old enough to have his fate determined. The old Scrolls had, for hundreds of years, been able to predict exactly what role each and every Mellark offspring would fulfil – and would definitively advise who the next ruler of Panem would be when the time for succession came. No one questioned it or queried how simple, yellowed parchments of paper could foresee so far into the future.

_There were some questions in Panem that were never, ever asked. That was one of them._

But that fateful day the middle Mellark brother was deemed to be an envoy, to be a conduit between the various districts of Panem and the Capitol, Peeta's own future was sealed. He was the only remaining heir, the only one who _could_. So on his own twelfth birthday, the announcement revealed by the reading of Scroll 74 wasn't a surprise - Peeta Mellark was destined to rule, and had therefore been groomed for it in the 6 years since.

He stalked into his room - refusing to slam the door like he knew his mother would if their positions were reversed - and flopped down on his bed. He was annoyed, frustrated, stifled - but more than anything, intrigued. Even though hours and miles separated them, he still couldn't get the girl he'd met out of his mind.

_Katniss Everdeen._ He rolled the words around his tongue, thought they were silky and beautiful and almost magic. _At least he had her name_. One day maybe, he'd be able to find her again.

He closed his eyes and allowed the image of her, eyes wide, terrified and determined, to come to mind. He thought about how her dry lips had felt under his, his first kiss that he would likely recount over and over in his head for days to come. He thought about the courage she'd shown and how she'd broken the rules to do what she needed to survive. How he wasn't certain he would ever meet someone like her again.

Eventually he slept and his dreams were full of long dark hair trailing through his fingers, the fateful Scrolls ripping and tearing beneath his feet and a golden pin that glowed with life and secrets.

* * *

Katniss' eyes flew open, staring at the ceiling above her. At first she didn't know what had startled her from sleep - her belly wasn't grumbling, Prim was still tucked into her side, and there was no pounding rain overhead threatening to bring the flimsy roof down upon them. And then she remembered.

_Haymitch Abernathy, fake escort and real genie, was in her home._

Yanking herself quickly but carefully out of bed so as to not wake Prim, she pulled off her thin, ragged pyjamas and replaced them with sturdy thick pants that were beginning to see better days and a long sleeved black shirt. She hurried down the stairs, twisting her long strands of hair into her standard braid and stopped short when she saw him in the small sitting room. He leant back in her mother's rocking chair, feet propped on the wooden table she and her father had carved together when she'd been no older than ten.

"Has my mother seen you?" She hissed without greeting. He chuckled.

"Good morning to you too, sweetheart," Haymitch smirked. "And no, she walked out the front door an hour ago, oblivious. I can make myself...unseeable when required."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "You can make yourself invisible?"

"What? No." He snorted. "You think I'm a magician or something? I hid in the damn closet. Pretty sure I swallowed a fur ball while I was in there." He coughed pitifully, and she rolled her eyes.

"Why are you still here anyway? I figured you would have left by now," Katniss demanded, ignoring his theatrics. They'd argued bitterly on the trip home - he insisting he had to stay until his job was done, she telling him she was sure he was confused and to go back to the Capitol. He'd won, not that she would admit it.

"Told you that already," he reminded her. "So get cracking with your wishes. I seem to remember Twelve having a distiller that makes liquor strong enough to burn your stomach lining and I want in on that before my day is done."

"You're a genie – why don't you make it yourself?" Katniss retorted.

"Why do that when someone else can do it for me?" He argued. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a slim volume of yellowed paper, its cover a thick, midnight blue leather - it was worn and obviously years older than she. "Here. I should have given you this last night, but you were so damn testy. It's guidelines, do's and don'ts of the genie business." He glanced down at the small watch that dangled on a silver chain from his belt loop. "You got an hour to read it. Now scram."

"But Prim-"

"Your sister? She'll be fine," Haymitch said firmly. "I guarantee your mother will be walking back in that door 5 minutes after you walk out of it."

"And you know that how?"

Haymitch huffed. "Quit with the questions already and just go." He held the book out to her, waiting until her fingertips grasped the end before rising to his feet. "I'll come find you when you're done." She watched him walk out with little more than a shrug of his shoulders, and her mouth opened and closed uselessly.

Without much else to do, Katniss shoved her feet into her worn boots and headed for the meadow, the one place within the confines of the district she could be assured she'd be left alone. She knew by this time of the morning she would have already missed the miners on the way to their shift, and the Seam kids wouldn't have headed off to school yet. She remembered fondly back when Gale, her closest friend and the only other person in their district adept at hunting the wild animals that crept into their district, used to accompany her to the meadow. She would carve arrows for the bow her father had made her; he would angrily vent over the inequality between each district and the Capitol. They hadn't spent a day in the meadow since he'd entered the depths of the mines 2 years earlier.

Dragging her feet across the dirt, she moved into the meadow and dropped to the ground onto the dead, dry grass. She flipped open the slim volume to the first page – the heading simply announcing _Congratulations_ – and with a sigh, began to read.

It sucked her in, the unexpected history behind Panem that she never knew – how genies came into being millennia ago, a result of when people still believed in the magical and mystical. How they were few and far between in current times, and only ever revealed themselves to those worthy, only gave wishes to those deemed befitting of such a gift. How a misjudged wish had once inadvertently led to the time that separated the old Panem from the Panem she knew today, and changed the course of history. How another later – and far smarter – wish had brought about the demise of the archaic practices that ruined families, demolished lives, and led children to the slaughter.

All these things she had never, ever known were the result of a simple wish. And it made her nervous with the implications for her decisions.

Lying back in the grass, she stared up at the sky and watched the clouds drift lazily across the sky. She'd been resigned to her lot in life and had determined long ago that all she was meant for was a simple life, one where she would undoubtedly struggle to eat or live some days. But with this…with this, her entire life could change. And thinking of the physical deterioration of Prim that had caused her to take the risk the day before and venture into One, she knew immediately what her first wish would be.

"Oh, really?"

Katniss yelped, pulling herself into a sitting position to see Haymitch in front of her. "What are you doing?!" she exclaimed, cursing herself that she'd been distracted enough that she hadn't noticed him creep up on her. "You scared the crap out of me!"

"Sorry," he replied, not sounding it in the slightest. "But apparently you've decided on your first wish?"

Katniss frowned. "How did you know that? I just…" she trailed off, looking at him suspiciously. "You can't hear my thoughts, can you?" She worried that the thoughts that had occupied her mind before bed the night before - of blond hair, blue eyes and a charming smile - had been transparent to him.

"Thank the stars, no," he smirked. "But once a decision has been made on a wish, I know. So here I am, ready and waiting."

Taken aback by the suddenness of the situation, Katniss nervously rubbed her eyes with balled fists before looking back up at him. "This is it then? I can't take it back?"

"You read the book?"

"Yes."

"Then you know the answer. Quit stalling and tell me the wish."

She nodded and took a deep breath. "I wish…I wish for well-being and good health – physically and mentally - for my family for the rest of our lives."

Haymitch raised an eyebrow. "That's it?"

"When you live in a district where a simple cold can mean your life, yes, that's it," Katniss said firmly. She didn't explain that with this wish she hoped it would cure her mother of her apathy, of the melancholy she'd slipped into the day Katniss' father had died in a mine explosion 7 years before.

"Alright then. Your wish, sweetheart, is my command." He closed his eyes, and she saw his lips moving slightly. The air around them changed; it shimmered and shook and danced, and Katniss looked at him in wonder as soft shades of purple and red, green and yellow emanated from him, a slight breeze playing with the tangled ends of his hair. And then suddenly it was over, almost as quickly as it had begun. He opened his eyes, grinned crookedly. "Alrighty. One down."

"It's done?" She asked dubiously.

"It's done," he confirmed. "Now you got any ideas on number two?"

Katniss raised her thumb to her mouth, nibbled on the nail nervously. "No?"

He shrugged. "No rush, I suppose. I'll let you have today to see the results of your wish. Maybe tomorrow you'll have a better idea." Haymitch turned and began to walk away before Katniss reached out and laid a hand on his arm.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"I told you earlier," he said wryly. "I need a drink. I'll see you again when you've made a decision."

She watched him go, his feet heavy and uncoordinated on the uneven ground. And then without haste she ran all the way back to her house, her breath coming in fits and starts as she stumbled up the couple of wooden steps that led to their front porch.

"Morning, Katniss!" Her mother greeted as she flung open the door. Mrs Everdeen stood at the kitchen counter, slicing the remainder of the bread Katniss had brought home the night before. She realised her mother's eyes were clear, the bright cornflower blue she remembered from her childhood; a small smile played across her lips as she glanced towards her daughters.

Prim sat at the table, blonde hair in two glossy braids that trailed over her shoulders, babbling mindlessly to Buttercup the cat as he pawed at her hair. Her blouse, a white that was slowly becoming grey from countless washings, hung open slightly at the neck.

And her collarbone didn't protrude as starkly as it had only the day before.

"Katniss are you ok?" Prim asked, looking up at her. "You're staring at me weird. Do I have something on my face?"

Katniss shook her head. "I'm...I'm fine," she stammered. "And there's nothing on your face. But are you guys…ok?"

"Of course!" Alice Everdeen replied, bringing a plate loaded with sliced bread with her and sliding into the seat beside Prim. "I don't think I've felt this good in, well...years. Now dig in, dear. We have some clients to see today. There's a good chance Mrs Winter may go into labour this afternoon."

Katniss reached for one of the thick pieces of bread and bit into it without really tasting.

_Her wish had worked._

* * *

2 days later as she trudged through the small woods that lined the border between Twelve and Eleven, Katniss continued to marvel over the change in her family. Prim's bony arms and legs had fleshed out almost overnight and the insipid pallor that had played across her cheeks had been replaced by a rosy glow. Her mother's moods and temperament had altered dramatically, and while neither their living conditions nor their food situation had improved, the vitality that shone out of both Mrs Everdeen and Prim was astounding. Even their patients were shocked at the change in Alice, though most whispered their disbelief behind their hands rather than to her face.

And although her wish seemed to have come true, Katniss hadn't heard or seen from Haymitch since their meeting in the meadow. She was beginning to wonder if somehow she'd made it all up in her mind, that her hunger for food was causing her to lose her sanity and to believe in things that weren't really happening.

She sighed as she quietly moved around another tree, the air and trees and ground quiet and empty. There was still nothing, not a single animal in sight. Things in the district were continuing to go from bad to worse, and she had to admit she could see the effect it was having on everyone - even those from Town were struggling to put food on their table. Her venture into One had highlighted it even more, seeing first hand people who had never had to go hungry for a single day or never had to worry if they wouldn't live to see another week through sheer lack of food. Part of her just wished she could make sure everyone always had something to eat, that they never had to go hungry or starve or rely so heavily on the meagre rations that the Capitol handed out as charity.

"You can, you know."

Katniss whirled, her bow banging into her leg as she did so. She glared at Haymitch, who grinned as he nonchalantly leant against a tree. "Dammit, how do you _do_ that?" she asked. "I didn't hear you at all. And where the hell have you been anyway? You grant my wish and then just disappear?"

"That's the point," he said simply. "I've left you alone for the last few days - I didn't get much of an inkling from you that you'd come to any decisions. So no reason for me to lurk around and bother you."

"Except I thought I'd imagined you," she snapped, slinging her unused bow across her shoulder.

"Well I'm here now," Haymitch replied. "Do you want to tell me what your wish is?"

"I...I haven't decided," she said slowly. _Had she?_

Haymitch folded his arms across his chest. "While you've got designated wishes, we have a _connection_, for lack of a better word. When you make a decision, I know. And about 5 minutes ago, my 'wish radar', or whatever you want to call it, went off. So you must have thought of something."

Katniss shoved her hands in the pockets of the jacket she always wore out hunting as she recollected her thoughts. "The last thing I was thinking about was..." her head rose in surprise as she realised she _had_ decided, she just hadn't known it at the time. _It __was so simple_. "I was thinking about Twelve, about how hungry people are. And so I wish…"she took a deep breath. "I wish for the people of District Twelve to never go hungry or starve and I never want them to have to worry about where their next meal is coming from."

Haymitch pushed off the tree, coming to stand directly in front of her. "You're pretty selfless aren't you, sweetheart?"

Gale's words from her teenage years played over in her head. "No," she finally said firmly. "I just don't like injustice. No one should have to go wanting while others have everything. And I never want to see my sister go hungry again."

He nodded approvingly. "It's as good as done," he said, and the breeze swirled around them.

* * *

Effie Trinket studied the notes Peeta had made as part of his homework, making marks and checks against his comments as she went. Her bronze tipped nails tapped against the portable screen, the thick bracelets that encircled her wrists clanking against the table with each tap of her finger.

"Now this all looks fine but I do believe we need to study up a little more on the greeting policies of District Three," she started without looking up at him. Her eyes continued to scroll across the screen, a little humph falling for her lips. "And must I remind you again that Four requires at least _two _days notice before a royal visit?"

"Sorry, Effie, I forgot," Peeta told her. "I'll remember that the next time I plan to go out there."

She looked up at him and shook her head. "After the little stunt you pulled last week, I cannot see you visiting Four anytime soon," she said, her tone prim and short.

"Oh, I know," Peeta replied wryly. He'd spent the last week under even more house arrest than normal; he'd been restricted to within the confines of the inside of the mansion, with his study sessions doubled. Still, none of it changed the fact that he knew it had been worth it.

The door to his quarters suddenly slammed open, and both he and Effie visibly startled at the sound, looking over in time to see Aaran flying in the doorway.

"Shit, Peeta, you gotta see this!" He exclaimed, grabbing the projector remote from the desk and aiming it towards the screen that dominated one wall of the study.

"Language, Aaran Mellark! What kind of envoy utters such words?!" Effie admonished. He muttered an insincere apology as he flicked through various channels before stopping on one where a town square bustled and a reporter with bright green hair looked down the barrel of the camera.

"...and residents of District Twelve have been unable to explain the recent growth in crops, nor the cattle that have suddenly been found to be grazing in their meadow," the reporter was saying, the incredulity in their voice obvious. The monologue was interspersed with footage of groups of people in the square, their arms laden with food and of children happily giggling around a cow as it mooed; a sweeping shot that showed what looked like a large crop of wheat, and of chickens clucking around a doorway.

"This is in District Twelve?" Effie asked, her mouth agape. "What on earth is going on?

"I don't know, none of us do," Aaran tossed over his shoulder. "Apparently someone in Twelve contacted Cressida in Media Relations and told her about it. It's like a...miracle."

"Oh miracles don't happen, Aaran," Effie said blithely. "It just must be a good season for them. How fortunate!"

"Well, I thought so too," he replied, and rolled his eyes. "But no surprises that our Master Advisor is highly unimpressed with such a lowly district upending the delicate balances of our nation."

"What?" Peeta exclaimed. "Can't he see how good it is for that district and its people?"_All he could think about was Katniss, and how amazing this was for her. If this continued, she'd never go hungry again_.

His brother snorted. "Do you really think Snow cares about things like that?"

"Aaran, do not speak so lowly of Master Advisor Snow," Effie told him firmly. "You need to show him some respect."

"I don't need to do anything - he's Mom and Dad's advisor, not mine." He sighed, dropped the remote back onto the table. "Anyway, I'm being sent out there tomorrow to determine what's going on."

"Really?" Peeta began. "Because-"

And then he stopped. _It was her._ _Katniss _was on the screen, a spring in her step and a flush on her cheeks as she walked hurriedly through the square with a middle aged man leisurely trailing behind her.

_Was that Escort Abernathy?_

Peeta rose slowly to his feet. "Aaran, I need to come with you to Twelve."


	3. Chapter 3

The sun beamed down on the district, filtering through trees and setting the autumn leaves alight. There was a frivolity to the main square, a light-heartedness and enthusiasm that hadn't been there for a long time. Cheeks were rosy, bellies were full, and larders were stocked. The district was, for the first time in its history, flourishing. And even though Katniss was thrilled beyond belief, part of her was utterly frustrated. She dropped her head in her hands. "Haymitch, I honestly didn't mean for this to happen."

"No one ever does, sweetheart, let's face it. But this isn't a bad thing. Look how much food the district has."

Katniss sighed noisily, then looked up and glared across the square to where the green-haired reporter was brushing at her coat while her cameraman packed up their equipment. "I understand that. But _that_," she gestured over to the reporter, "Is annoying. I didn't want people from the Capitol poking around here." _Not with her recent history. __Especially_ _not with her recent history._

Haymitch folded his arms across his chest, leant back against the edge of the building they were standing beside. "This isn't the worst thing I've seen as a result of a wish," he reminded her, and she begrudgingly nodded her head. She knew that now, after reading the book he'd given her. _Games where children were sent to slaughter each other, wars where men and children and women died, plunging the country into chaos._

_Yes. There were always worse wishes to make._

"You're right. But the Capitol has always ignored us, happy to let us die out, as long as we fill our quota of coal. The last thing any of us want is them sniffing around, trying to find out what's happened."

Haymitch shrugged, reached into his jacket pocket and slipped out a small silver flask. He raised it to his lips. "I think wish fulfilment will be low on their list of explanations," he said wryly. "Regardless, they'll be gone soon enough."

"I suppose," Katniss replied, then glanced up at him curiously. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

"Were those...were those wishes yours?"

"What wishes?"

"You know. The ones..."

Haymitch took another deep swallow from the flask before sliding it back into his pocket. "The ones that led to the Dark Days, and the Hunger Games?"

"Yeah."

His lips firmed into a straight line. "Nope. I've granted a lot of stupid or damaging wishes, but I haven't had anything like that on my conscience, thankfully."

They fell into silence, Katniss wondering what kind of person would make the type of wish that would lead to such terrible moments in their history, when suddenly Haymitch chuckled under his breath. She turned to him angrily. "What's so funny?" she demanded. "You think the Games are funny?"

"Hardly," he retorted snappily. "I was actually just remembering the time I had to turn a guy into a monkey."

Katniss' mouth dropped open in surprise. "What? A monkey?"

"Yeah." Haymitch shook his head as he remembered. "See, there's two wishes I can't grant. One, I can't bring anyone back from the dead. Two, I can't make someone fall in love with someone else."

"What a stupid wish," Katniss muttered.

"Anyway," Haymitch glared at her, "This girl I was granting wishes to wanted this boy to fall in love with her. Clove, her name was. Who knows how the hell she deserved three wishes, but I'm not the one to make those decisions." He shrugged. "When she asked, I told her I couldn't grant it, and instead, she watched as he fell in love with the girl next door. And because she couldn't have him, no one could. So Cato Anderson became a monkey. She kept him as a pet."

"Are you serious? How long ago was this?" Katniss asked, the shock evident in her voice, and Haymitch snorted.

"I'm deadly serious. And it happened maybe...9, 10 months ago?" He folded his arms across his chest. "You see, sweetheart, wishes are serious business, they're not to be made lightly. And now some poor kid is going to spend the rest of his life as a monkey because some girl got her panties in a twist 'cause she couldn't have him. That's why I like you. You got some spunk to you, but you've also got a brain, and you've used it. 2 outta 2 so far - let's hope wish number three lives up to the others."

The mention of her final wish tied her stomach in knots. The first two had been easy - the third...she still had no clue. She couldn't think of anything else that she'd want to wish for. Haymitch had already shut down the one other thing she could ever hope for, with a flippant sentence, and a confirmation that seeing her father again wasn't something that could happen. She cleared her throat.

"I'm still thinking about it. For now...for now I'm going to head home. See Prim."

Haymitch nodded. "Alright. You know how to find me when you need me."

Katniss raised an eyebrow. "Actually...I don't. You always find me."

He chuckled. "Got me there. Alright then. I'll find you when I know I need to find you." He tipped his head, meandered away across the square, sidestepping a couple of kids running through with corn stalks clutched in their hands, their faces grubby with dirt, but still wreathed in smiles. Seeing them reminded Katniss of why she'd selected her second wish. She knew she'd made the right choice, even with the possibility of added scrutiny that could come from the Capitol as a result.

She didn't expect gratitude or thanks; knowing no one was going to bed hungry was all the thanks she needed.

* * *

_The stones were hard and cold against her back, but he was warm, so warm. Even through the thin fabric of her jacket she could feel the heat pulsing from his body, and she wondered if hers was the same, whether he could feel her heart pounding out of her chest, whether the heat building in her blood and under her skin was emanating from her in waves._

_She splayed her hands against his chest, let his hand drift down and grip her hip tightly, pulling her closer. He swallowed her gasp with his mouth, his lips moving hungrily against hers. And she knew she never wanted it to end, didn't want to stop, wanted to drag him into the shadows and have his hands __on_ _her. And considering she'd never had those feelings before, never had that draw deep down in her belly, it frightened her, made her start._

_But then he wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzled his lips against the hollow of her throat._

_And it made her moan instead._

Katniss' eyes flew open, her heart pounding, her stomach quivering. Turning her head, she glanced out the window, at the stars that peeked through the clouds, at the way the clouds drifted across the moon, as she tried to calm her breathing. It was the same, _again_. Like every other night since she'd gone to District One. She didn't understand why she couldn't get past it, why she couldn't stop thinking about it. It wasn't like she'd ever see him again; he was the future King for crying out loud. It had just been a stupid kiss and it wasn't like she even _wanted_ that kind of relationship anyway. They were a waste of time, a sure-fire way to heartbreak and loneliness. Only silly, love-struck girls would want to wish for stupid things like that. Silly girls like Haymitch's Clove.

But even she had to admit, in the dead of night, that there was a hunger that couldn't be sated with the wish she'd wished.

* * *

The amount of patients who came through the Everdeen door had dwindled since she'd made her wish. With supplies plentiful, starvation was no longer a matter of life or death, and those with emaciated frames didn't have the need to visit with Alice for remedies she could never provide to fix that form of ailment. Alice herself continued to thrive, instead spending her time creating new poultices, serums and medications for those who had illnesses beyond the help of food alone. And this afternoon, instead of having to work on a patient, she was humming happily at the counter as she plucked one of the wild chickens that now roamed the district, and Prim was talking a mile a minute, her eyes sparkling.

"And then Jenny Waters came into the lunch room and she had an _orange_. An _orange_, Katniss! It smelled so good, and after school she took us home to show us, and a whole tree in her backyard was covered in them!" Prim reached into her pocket, and Katniss marvelled at the perfect orange ball she held out in her hand. It smelled sweet and strong and Katniss trailed a fingertip lightly over the pebbled peel. She remembered one, from long ago, that her father had shared, the juice dribbling down her chin as she sucked on the quarter he'd handed her. It was a good memory, one she held onto for many reasons - most of all the quiet happiness in her father's eyes as he'd watched her eat it.

"_This_ came off that bedraggled tree in the Waters' backyard?" Katniss asked, remembering the spindly tree that she'd caught Prim and Jenny climbing last summer, the branches barely strong enough to hold their weight.

"Yup!" Prim laughed, plucking the orange from her hand and tossing it up in the air before catching it again. "_Full_ of them, and it's all green and leafy and has these huge branches now. I can't believe it, Katniss. This week...things have changed so much. All this food, from nowhere. It's like all our wishes have come true!"

Katniss almost choked on her own breath. _If only she knew_.

"Did you tell Rory about the oranges?" Katniss asked, swallowing heavily to try and make sure her voice didn't squeak.

Prim nodded enthusiastically, her twin braids swinging around her shoulders as she did so. "Mmm-hmm. He was with us when Jenny showed us the tree. He took an armful, and I don't think I've ever seen him run home fast enough!" _Good_. "But you know what this means, Katniss?"

"What?"

Prim plopped down at the table, began to tear away the peel from the oranges flesh. "We'll never, ever have to worry about rations from the Capitol again. _Ever_!"

The shiver ran down Katniss' spine, unexpected and unwelcomed, and she rued the fact that she hadn't thought of this already, had only thought of the scrutiny of where the food _came_ from. But if she knew one thing for certain, it was that the Capitol didn't like their balance upended. And if Twelve's residents knew they didn't have to rely on the Capitol anymore, the Capitol had no control, no leverage over them. Now she was _certain_ they would be watching. And were likely very, very unhappy about it.

The nerves in her belly were strong and insistent.

* * *

"Absolutely not. No. You lost any sort of right like that the moment you disappeared off to District One!"

"I didn't disappear, and I didn't have any of those rights to _start_ with. All I want to do is go out and see Twelve, to see what's happening there. Don't you think as the future King, I have a right to?" Peeta held out his hands in supplication, trying to keep his voice level and calm, the opposite to the raised tones of his mother. He sometimes wondered if she forgot that _she_ didn't really hold the power, not in the same way his father did. But the King was a kind one and avoided confrontation as much as he possibly could - especially when it came to his family.

Peeta and Aaran had had to wait 24 hours before being able to speak with their parents about Peeta accompanying Aaran on his visit to Twelve. The Monarchs had been in closed door talks with their closest advisors, and not even their sons could intervene in those matters. But the moment they'd been relieved, Peeta and Aaran had headed straight for the King's study, and had cornered them with their proposal.

"Mom, there's no harm in Peeta accompanying me on this trip. And maybe if you let him, he might be less inclined to be irresponsible and sneak out," Aaran butted in. Peeta glared at him, but his brother simply winked, as though it wasn't his own intel that had enabled Peeta to escape the confines of the mansion.

"_Peeta_ is not the Envoy, is he?" Deliah hissed, placing her hands firmly on her hips. "That is _your_ responsibility."

"I know that," Aaran replied. "But Peeta is right. You can't keep him here forever without really exposing him to the realism of the districts. I'll be there to keep an eye on him, I guarantee it."

"I don't-"

"I think he should go." Nolan Mellark stood from behind his desk, rested his palms on the smooth surface of the dark, cherry wood desk that had been in the family for years. Peeta's mouth dropped open in surprise. "I've been thinking about the incident, and I believe...we may have inadvertently caused it. By limiting Peeta's access to the districts, we're limiting his knowledge. I think if we open the boundaries-"

"Open the boundaries?" Deliah's fuchsia tinted lips pursed angrily. She stalked over to the marble fireplace, staring into the simulated flames that crackled needlessly. "The moment we start opening boundaries is the moment we start opening ourselves to outside influences. And we all know what outside influences can do."

"Really?" Nolan straightened, folded his arms across his chest.

"I'll remind you of your Great-Grandfather, and his penchant for 'sneaking into the Districts'," she snapped back, turning back and over-exaggerating her example with air quotes. "Who knows how many bastard Mellarks are out there because of that?"

"That's irrelevant, Deliah, and you know it." Nolan shook his head. "I know I usually defer to you on matters in this house while I oversee this country. But here we strongly disagree. Peeta, you may visit District Twelve with your brother."

Peeta's eyes lit up, and he practically leapt up from his seat, his feet sinking into the deep carpet as he crossed the opulent room to shake his father's hand. "I promise you won't regret this. I'll do you proud," he promised as his father clasped his hand and shook it firmly.

"You'd better," Deliah snapped, stalking across the room to the door, and flinging it open. She glared at Nolan. "You're making a mistake."

"I'm making a sound decision," Nolan said firmly, and she narrowed her eyes in return. Without another word, she swept from the room, and Peeta watched as his father turned back to him. "You'd best make the most of this experience, Peeta. Your mother may not make it so easy next time."

"Easy?" Aaran snorted. "Nothing is ever easy with her."

"Have some respect, Aaran," Nolan admonished mildly. "Show some of the diplomacy you present while travelling."

"Yes, sir," Aaran replied, and began to outline the logistics of the trip. But by now, Peeta was barely listening to their exchange. He was going to Twelve. He would see the country.

_He would see Katniss_.

* * *

The train shot through the valley, the flourishing outlying plains and lush forests on the edge of the Capitol giving way to dried out fields and grass more yellow than green. Peeta couldn't tear himself away from the window, staring out as it rushed by him in a blur.

"How long as the land been like this?" He asked quietly, turning to his brother. Aaran looked up from the electronic screen he'd be studying and shrugged.

"As long as anyone knows, really. That's why what's happened in the centre of the District is so out of the norm. There's never been any history of any form of edible food crops or agriculture out here. Ever."

"So we basically have to investigate because for the first time in their history, Twelve has enough food to feed its people? Why can't we just...let it be?" Peeta shook his head in annoyance. He might be a part of the trip, but it didn't mean he had to like the motivations.

"I wish we could. But Advisor Snow has made it clear that this situation could unbalance the day to day running of the Capitol." He shifted in his seat awkwardly. "I may not agree with all the tasks given to me, Peeta, but I have to follow them."

"Since when?" Peeta snorted. "You've been breaking the rules all your life."

"True," Aaran admitted with a quick grin. "But when it's for work, it's different. You'll know that soon- _Holy shit."_

Aaran's expletive caused Peeta to turn back to the window and follow his shocked gaze. Now, instead of bare fields and a sense of desperation, green fields had popped up, full of wheat and of corn. Trees lined the edges and the train tracks, laden with fruit of every colour he could think of. And as the train began to slow and pull into the station at the edge of town, he could see a cow lowing comfortably in the grass nearby. _A real, live cow._

"I guess this is new," Peeta murmured.

"Holy shit," Aaran echoed, his eyes still wide and surprised. Peeta wasn't sure there was anything else he could say; so he didn't. Instead he simply studied the people bustling about in preparation of the trains' arrival.

Ten minutes later they stood on the platform, Twelve's welcoming committee being led by the district's Mayor.

"Welcome, Your Highnesses." The middle-aged man dipped into a low bow, and Aaran brushed the formality aside with a grin and a clap on the back.

"Please, Mayor Undersee, I've requested often enough that you don't have to address me that way."

"I know, Si- Aaran. But it is also not often that we have the pleasure of the company of the future King." His bushy eyebrows rose over eyes of faded green as he looked over at Peeta, who was standing discreetly at the edge of their group. With a charming smile, Peeta stepped forward.

"Mayor Undersee, I've heard plenty of good things about you and your District from my brother. Your hospitality is always appreciated; and I can only insist that you call me Peeta as well."

The mayor - a simple man with greying hair, a slightly rotund belly and a blind eye to many of the happenings in the district - looked at Peeta in surprise, then nodded.

"Very well, Peeta. In fairness and the sake of informality, I must also insist you call me Benedict." At Peeta's firm nod, he continued. "We're honoured to have the two of you, and your entourage" - he gestured to the secretary, and the three bodyguards that gathered around them - "here in Twelve, during a particularly flourishing time."

"Yes, of course, that's the reason we are here," Aaron said smoothly. "We're just as amazed and enthusiastic in regards to the sudden change, and could not wait to arrive to see the difference."

Benedict nodded, and gestured for them to step from the train platform towards the town car he had on hand for only occasions such as these. Their feet moved over plush green grass that had only the week before been as dry as dust. "Yes, I expected so. Alas, I have very little explanation for you, but perhaps we can take a tour around the District so you can see the change for yourself."

"This would be ideal," Aaran agreed smoothly, stepping into the car as they reached it.

Peeta slid into the seat beside Aaran. "Maybe the town square would be a good place to start?" He said lightly.

Benedict Undersee shook his head. "It is quite busy at this time of day - we're best leaving that until the end. I suggest we start at the old Meadow on the edge of the Seam?" He looked towards their driver, who nodded, and Benedict took the front seat. Peeta hid his disappointment - the town square was the only place he'd seen Katniss, thought it was the best place to start in his attempt to find her. But he had no rush, he supposed, he still had two more days here. As long as he saw her, that's all that mattered.

_He couldn't tell Aaran; couldn't tell anyone. How could he explain that he'd been completely preoccupied for well over a week with a woman he'd spent but a few hours with? Aaran would laugh at him, tell him there were plenty of pretty Capitol socialites out there willing and waiting for the future King._

But he wasn't interested in that.

"Here we are," the mayor announced, alighting from the car and gesturing for Peeta and Aaran to follow. Their companions stepped from the second car, and as a group they walked to the edge of what Benedict had called a meadow.

It wasn't a meadow. Not to Peeta. It was a field of sunflowers, bright and in bloom, their faces happily turned to the sun.

"This is incredible," Aaran mused. "So different to the last time I was here."

"Yes," Benedict confirmed. "We know from this that we can harvest the seeds, and we'll be able to make oil. Long term, this will be a great benefit to the District."

"And you've never known of sunflowers to grow here before?" Peeta mused.

"No, never. Just like so many of the other crops that have sprung up around the district."

Peeta stared into the tall stalks, the long green leaves, the flowers whose faces looked as large as dinner plates. "Do you...do you mind if I go in the field?" Peeta asked.

Benedict shrugged. "I don't see a problem."

"Thank you." Peeta turned to the guards, who had stood to attention at Peeta's request. "Stay with Aaran, please. I doubt I am going to go anywhere or get into trouble in a field," he told them wryly. They nodded disgruntledly, and Peeta moved into the field alone, enjoying the quiet, the whispering of the leaves as they brushed up against each other in the breeze.

Maybe it was what everyone was saying it was - a miracle, a blessing. Who knew? He wasn't sure it even mattered. If Twelve had food and provisions in abundance, surely it could assist with trade between Districts. It would be a first, and a shift away from the norm of how the Capitol has run things for years - but why _couldn't_ change occur? Why _couldn't _things be different?

A small yellow flower caught his eye, and he bent down to retrieve it from the soil. He was surprised to see it was a lone dandelion, a weed in the middle of a field of flowers. But it didn't look out of place; in fact it looked like it belonged. Like once upon a time it had been a slight glimmer of hope in an otherwise barren field.

Smiling to himself and twirling the flower between his fingers, he straightened. And found himself face to face with surprised silver eyes that had haunted him for nights on end.

* * *

_He tapped long, weathered fingers against his chin, their skin papery and thin from age. His mind raced, mulled over the thoughts that tossed and turned about until they were a jumble of words. He knew something was wrong, wasn't right, but he couldn't place yet. Not quite. There were still a few pieces in the puzzle he'd yet to put together._

_"Crane?" He called with little inflection, leaning back in the deep, blood red leather chair. It creaked slightly, not from his weight, but age and decades of use. _

_"Yes sir?" A man with slicked black hair and an elaborately sculptured beard entered the room, his posture straight, his arms linked behind his back._

_"Has there been any word from the convoy?"_

_"Only to confirm their arrival, Advisor Snow."_

_He nodded firmly. "Very well. I wish for you to advise me the moment our contact connects in."_

_"Yes sir. I'll advise you the moment our contact connects in."_

_Advisor Snow waved his hand dismissively. "Do not parrot my words back at me, Crane, just do as I say. Dismissed." He turned away, moving his attention to his projector, and the news footage he'd had on a loop from the moment the story had broken. _

_There was something...odd about the goings on in Twelve. He'd been around long enough, had been curious enough, was knowledgeable enough, to know that strange things happened in Panem. Strange, unexplained things. Unexpected things. Things that somehow happened on a whim. And sometimes ended just as quickly._

_He wanted to know what it was. Because whatever it was meant power, he was sure of it._

_And he wanted it. More than anything._

* * *

_A/N - Thank you so much for reading, for your follows, favourites and reviews. You can find me on tumblr under sponsormusings, where I blog about THG, JHutch, Europe and fic updates :)_


	4. Chapter 4

Katniss slid back under the fence, the wires at the bottom catching slightly on the frayed hem of her worn pants. She carefully reached down and untangled the threads before rising to her feet and slinging her old, tattered satchel back over her shoulder. She initially hadn't been too thrilled with the idea of crossing the fence again so soon after what had happened to her in One, but her mother had been desperate. Four Seam children had suddenly come down with severe cases of chickenpox, and the witch hazel Katniss knew grew just beyond the fence had been exactly what they needed and couldn't source any other way. So she'd agreed, had waited until the meadow had cleared of kids excitedly running through the flowers before slipping across the boundary. But she hadn't lingered; the risk of sneaking into another District - especially now, with her wishes almost granted - was no longer necessary.

In the distance she could hear voices, a faint whistle from the mine that called lunchtime. In this part of the meadow the sunflowers towered above her head, their faces turned to the sun at least 6 feet off the ground. She found she liked it, found she could hide in their long leaves and slim stalks and not worry about being found. It was a welcome relief from feeling as though everyone was staring at her, that somehow everyone knew she was responsible for what was happening. And even though she knew it wasn't true, she still couldn't help but feel that way. _The guilt of holding a secret she couldn't tell anyone_.

The breeze around her was slight but refreshingly cool; it carried the faint smell from the sunflowers through the air, and something else familiar that she couldn't immediately identify. She inhaled deeply, hoping she'd be able to recognise it, and changed her direction, towards her house and the edge of the Seam. And pulled up abruptly at the body bent over at the waist in front of her.

Whoever he was, the first thing she noticed was the broad shoulders and a head full of tousled blond hair, then the strong arms and long fingers that were digging in the dirt. But the man's clothes were good quality, too good for even a Merchant, and she wondered where the hell he'd come from. And then he straightened, a small yellow weed twirling in his fingers; her mouth dropped open.

_What was Peeta Mellark - no, your future King, Katniss, remember that! - doing in District Twelve?_

"Wha-what are you...you doing here?" She stammered, sliding her bag behind her back out of habit, out of his line of sight. She watched as his own eyes widened and brightened, as they filled with something she couldn't identify.

"Katniss!" He exclaimed. _He actually remembered her name?_ "I was hoping I would see you here!"

"What? Why?" She replied, confused, and then pulled herself up. "I'm sorry Your Highness, I shouldn't question you." _Why was he here? What did he want? Had the King and Queen sent him here to demand better punishment for her crime in One?_

He waved a hand and then glanced over his shoulder. He lowered his voice, so that it was barely a whisper. "Katniss, please don't speak to me as though I'm a stranger. Call me Peeta."

"I..." She trailed off. "But we _are_ strangers though."

"Are we?" He smiled slightly, the right side of his mouth turning up just a little more than the left. "I'm fairly certain if I was a stranger I wouldn't know that your favourite colour is green."

Her cheeks flushed - _like a schoolgirl, this was ridiculous_ - and she steeled herself, straightening her spine. She cleared her throat, made sure her voice was firm. "If you've come for me because of what happened in One, I understand. Please just leave my family out of this."

"What happened in One?" He echoed, sliding a hand in his pocket. "Katniss, that matter is settled. There are no more repercussions from that night, I assure you." A strange look crossed his face, but it was gone almost as quickly as it had appeared. "No, my brother and I are here because-" He broke off as an abrupt call of _Peeta! _echoed through the air and he looked at her apologetically. "That's Aaran. I have to get back to him. But I'll be here for two more days - and I want to ensure I see you again before I go."

"What? Why?" She asked again, realising how dim she probably sounded.

He smiled again, slow and sweet. "No reason, Katniss Everdeen, other than to speak with you a little more."

She watched him walk away, as the realisation of why he was here hit her a moment too late.

_Her wishes._

* * *

Peeta raised the cup to his lips, sipped at the steaming hot liquid. Following their time at the meadow, Benedict Undersee had taken them on a short tour through the district, and now Peeta and Aaran found themselves in the front parlour of the Mayor's house. His wife was nowhere to be found _("A headache keeps her indisposed, my apologies," Benedict had murmured_), but his teenage daughter sat in the room with them in her stead. No more than 18, Margaret Undersee was blonde and pretty, with perfect manners, and a smile that looked mischievous if you knew to look at it the right way.

Most of the meeting he'd been pre-occupied, his thoughts full of Katniss. He couldn't believe he'd run into her so soon - the last place he'd expected to run into her had been in the middle of the meadow, but there she'd been, her braid mussed and a streak of dirt on her cheek. He'd wanted to reach up and brush it away, but he knew it was too forward of him.

_Even though he'd already kissed her, and had felt the heat from her skin against his own._

He breathed deeply, forced himself to focus on the conversation going on around him. "Has some kind of...marketplace been set up? If you have crops, people will need to harvest, it will need to be made available to the rest of the district," Aaran was saying.

Benedict nodded. "Yes, this is all true. I've been in meetings with some of the town officials, and have begun to organise job advertisements to fill roles such as harvesters and distributors. The District itself is still quite poor, with not a lot of financial stability, so our idea was for it simply to be rationed out, determined by head per family." Peeta watched as the Mayor swallowed heavily. "However…"

"Yes?" Peeta replied before Aaran had a chance to.

"We...wondered if it was possible to distribute to the Capitol, if we continue to be as fortunate as we currently are? It would bring some much needed life into the District, help us to perhaps have an additional purpose outside of our coal mining."

Peeta could see Aaran shifting awkwardly in his seat out of the corner of his eye. _This is exactly what Advisor Snow was concerned about - a shift in the Districts_. _Could it really be that big of an issue? Were the systems within Panem really that fragile that a handful of new crops could bring the country down?_

"It's a request that I can certainly take back to the Capitol," Aaran finally acquiesced, and Benedict nodded, knowing it was as much as he could expect for now. Silence fell on the group, awkward and heavy, and in distinct contrast to the jovial tone of most of their time across the afternoon.

"Has Father advised you of tonight's festivities?" Madge - as she'd insisted to be referred to - finally piped up, folding her hands delicately on her lap. Her tone was light and carefree, but Peeta had seen Capitol politicians like Plutarch Heavensbee firsthand; he knew exactly what she was doing. Peeta looked down to the floor, smiled to himself discreetly. _Change the subject, remove the tension that filled the room, all with a smile on her face._ _If Benedict Undersee wasn't careful, his daughter was surely going to usurp him as Mayor one day._

"Not yet, Madge, but thank you for the reminder," Benedict said gratefully, shooting a small smile at his daughter. "Gentlemen, long ago we used to host a Harvest Festival but, well, the tradition was abandoned. However we've decided to bring it back to the District to celebrate our fortune, and hoped you would join us in celebrating. It is nothing more than music and dancing and eating, but I understand if-"

"We're here, Benedict, and we would love to attend," Peeta interrupted smoothly. "Wouldn't we, Aaran?"

Aaran, who had two left feet, hid his grimace and nodded. "Certainly. I would like to go over some additional matters first though, if you don't mind..." He trailed off, glancing at Madge, who immediately understood his intention. She rose to her feet.

"I believe I will walk into the square, Father, to be there for when the festivities begin," she announced.

"I'll join you," Peeta said, rising. His two bodyguards stood to attention in the corner of the room, and he sighed quietly. "_We'll_ join you," he corrected himself. She nodded, and he followed her to the front door, out onto the porch; they made their way down the path that would lead them to the centre of town. His guards trailed a dozen feet behind him.

"Does that ever get annoying?" Madge asked bluntly, raising an eyebrow and tipping her head back towards the two burly men in white.

Peeta chuckled. "Considering I rarely get to leave the Capitol, I would take a couple of guards any day."

"Hmmmm," she murmured, nodding her head. "I didn't think you got out much."

Peeta raised an eyebrow. "Really? What makes you say that?"

Madge sidestepped a large rock that speared out of the dirt. "Well for starters we've never seen you here before. And you have a look of wide-eyed wonderment on your face at everything you see."

Peeta's mouth dropped open. Other than Katniss, he'd never met anyone who had spoken to him so flippantly, so devoid of acknowledgement of his status.

_He loved it._

"You're quite outspoken aren't you, Miss Undersee," he replied, his eyes bright with amusement. She shrugged, but he saw the smile tug at the corner of her mouth.

"Someone has to be. And you strike me as the type to listen...Your Highness." If she was mocking him, her tone didn't betray her at all.

_Yes. She would make a damn fine politician one day._

He followed her into town, and happily listened to her as she gave him a history of the District that he wouldn't have found in any of Miss Trinket's textbooks.

* * *

Prim and Jenny Waters practically skipped in front of her, despite the heavy cart they dragged behind them. It was full of oranges, and even from ten feet back, their sweet scent was so cloying that Katniss could practically taste it on her tongue.

"Hey Catnip, you think you could at least look a little happy about tonight?" She felt an elbow dig into her side, and she glanced up at Gale. He'd done his best to scrub every bit of coal dust from his skin, but it still clung in the beds of his nails, and still had a smear of it under his ear. She rolled her eyes.

"You know dancing and the like isn't really my thing, Gale," she muttered. She hadn't been looking forward to it since the moment Mayor Undersee had announced the Harvest Festival two days before.

"Yeah, but think of the reason behind it," he said. She wasn't sure she'd ever heard him so enthusiastic. "All the food the District has, Katniss. I don't have to work my ass off in the mine to get shitty pay to afford wild dog stew in the Hob any more, you don't have to try and scavenge whatever sneaks into our side of the fence! Why shouldn't we celebrate?"

Katniss shrugged - she couldn't very well tell him that she was still worried people would find out the truth, and that she simply felt better being away from everyone. "I get it, I do. I just…"

"Look," Gale interrupted. "Just look like you're enjoying yourself for Prim's sake, ok? She's the happiest I've ever seen her. Hell, even your Mom looks like she's alive for once." He glanced over his shoulder to where Alice and Gale's mother, Hazel, walked behind them, heads close in conversation as they laughed together. "And mine...I haven't seen her smile this much since before Dad died."

"Me too," Katniss murmured, and she knew he was right. She didn't have to like it - but she could at least put a smile on her face and pretend. Everyone else in the district _deserved_ a celebration like this, after everything they'd gone through over the years - famine, drought, mine collapses, untreatable diseases, death.

The rest of their walk from the Seam into town was quiet, but the sounds of jubilation around them from others making their way there was enough to fill the silence. The noise increased as they turned the final corner into the town centre, and Katniss' mouth dropped open at the sight in front of her.

Small lights were strung up from building to building, creating a canopy of stars across the square - _where they came from, Katniss had no idea_ - and Donny Cartwright and Ellis Shorncliffe had set up in the corner near the cobblers storefront, testing the strings on fiddles they hadn't used in years. The centre itself was empty, with long trestle tables lining the edges, all piled high with fruits and vegetables Katniss could only ever have imagined in her wildest dreams. She saw that Sae had set up her makeshift kitchen from Hob - a black market on the outer edges of the Seam - and the smell of roasting meat wafted in Katniss' direction. Her mouth watered.

"I'm, uh, gonna head off," Gale mumbled to her after a moment. "Madge is here already."

"Yeah yeah," she rolled her eyes, but grinned, giving him a shove in the direction of the Mayor's daughter. For many years, the town/seam social divide had discouraged fraternisation between the two - Merchants liked to look down their nose at those from the Seam, and those from the Seam resented the Merchants for their snobbery and the sheer fact they were able to afford to put food on their table.

The end of the Hunger Games years before had begun to thaw the divide, but it hadn't been until the entire district had begun to be affected by dwindling food and an increase in poverty that trivial things like that had begun to decrease in importance. Gale and Madge's attraction had simmered for years, but it had spilled over the moment he discovered that she was as unhappy with the inequality in Panem as he was.

It didn't take long for the music to start up, for people to begin to fill the square, dancing to songs Katniss hadn't heard in years. Delly Cartwright sang beside her father as he played, was joined by Thom Backman, who Katniss hadn't even known could carry a note. He segued into a bawdy tune with two of his crewmates from the mines, one full of lyrics that had most people laughing, but left Katniss blushing.

She visited Sae's stall, and ate her fill of wild turkey, then gobbled down another of Jenny's oranges. She never paused for long, winding her way around the crowd until she found herself watching the festivities from underneath the tree beside the bakery. She spied a blond stranger in the crowd, shifting awkwardly from side to side with Lisbeth Masters, the butcher's daughter, and could only assume it was Aaran Mellark. He'd visited Twelve before, but she generally had never given much thought to the royal family. Not until one of them had effectively saved her life.

"That colour on your cheeks is very becoming you know," a voice whispered in her ear, and she jumped, whirling around quickly. _Of course it was him._

"Why'd you sneak up on me?" she snapped. _She hated being surprised – especially while her mind had been wandering to the dreams she'd had every night since she'd met him. _Peeta laughed.

"Well everyone else is out there having fun, and you're standing here on the edge of the crowd, a frown on your face and a blush on your cheek. I didn't _mean_ to sneak up on you - you were just simply lost in your thoughts."

She folded her arms across her chest, suddenly aware of the fact that he was perfectly dressed in dark pants and a pale blue button-up shirt. Only his disordered waves showed any hint of dishevelment, and even then it still looked immaculate.

She still wore the dirty, threadbare pants from that morning, and her father's old leather jacket.

"Everyone else is dancing - why don't we join them?" he suggested.

She raised an eyebrow. "I don't dance," she said flatly.

"Don't or won't?"

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. _Dammit_.

Peeta grinned, the same crooked one he'd tossed at her in the meadow, and reached a hand out, knotting his fingers through hers. "C'mon, Katniss Everdeen. It's a celebration. You should dance." He led her into the centre of the square, and she was thankful at least that her cheeks had already been red _before_ he'd dragged her in front of everyone. Stopping, he turned back around to face her, dropping her hand and simply moving his feet from side to side, his hips moving slightly with them. She didn't move at all.

"Katniss," he finally said, exasperated. "No one is watching you, if that's what you're worried about. Just…move."

She took a furtive glance around her, and noticed he was right - no one gave a damn what she was doing. They were too busy dancing up a storm, or eating, or laughing, or playing tag. With a sigh and a shrug, she began to copy his movements, though she simply felt awkward, like a baby learning to walk.

"This is quite a district you have here," he said to her, breaking the silence between them.

"It's home," she said simply. _Don't trip over your own feet, Katniss_.

"But it's changed significantly quite recently," Peeta added, and she froze.

"Yes," she replied guardedly.

"It's amazing, really," he continued enthusiastically, as though he hadn't noticed her stiff posture. "I mean, you all just must be ecstatic."

Katniss frowned at him this time - he genuinely seemed excited for them, genuinely seemed as if he saw it as a good thing. _Had she been wrong? Would the Capitol actually be okay with their turn in fortune?_

"We are," she finally agreed. "We feel very lucky right now."

"And that meadow is amazing. All those sunflowers…"

Katniss murmured in agreement, her shoulders loosening as she settled into the conversation. "Yes. I can see the very edge of the meadow from our front porch. It's nice to see them in the morning."

Then the music changed and everything inside her tensed again.

The song was slow, almost romantic, and she saw Madge and Gale begin to move together at the edge of the square. Watching her manly best friend sway on his feet normally would have been enough to make her snort back a laugh - but the nerves in her own belly stopped her.

Without a word, Peeta stepped forward, slipped one arm around her waist, landing his hand appropriately just above the small of her back and gathered her right hand in his free one, raising them to chest height. "You'll allow it?" he whispered, and she nodded her head dumbly. With a smile he slowly began to move their bodies in sync with the music.

"Should...should your brother see you with me?" she said quietly, and he lowered his head slightly so that her mouth practically rested on his cheek. "I mean, after what happened in One?"

"You mean the night when I encountered one of the most amazing people I've ever met?" He murmured back.

She scoffed lightly. "You don't get out much if you think that."

"I don't, you're right. It doesn't change anything about what I said though."

She pulled back, and looked at him carefully. "For someone who doesn't get out much, you certainly know what to say to people."

"Mostly etiquette training," he said simply. "But...I _have_ been told I have a way with words."

"To say the least." Katniss allowed him to pull her in close again, closer than he had before. Her chest brushed against his, and she inhaled sharply - she could almost swear she felt his heart thudding out of control. She closed her eyes. "Why don't you get out much?" she asked. _Anything to take her mind of the way she was feeling_.

"I have a lot to learn before becoming King, so I mostly stay in the Capitol," Peeta said simply, then sighed. "But I begged to come out here with Aaran on his trip. There's a whole world out there, Katniss, and it's new to me. I want to experience as much of it as I can, see as much of it as I can. After all, how can I rule if I don't know what it's like?" His fingers brushed gently against her spine as he turned them in a circle. "And if I'm being honest….well, I also came here to see you."

"What?" Her eyes flew up to his in surprise.

"I haven't...I haven't been able to get you out of my mind since we met."

"That's ridiculous." _No it's not, Katniss. You have your own thoughts, remember?_

"It isn't," Peeta said firmly. "Back in the Capitol I saw you on the screen, in a story about what was happening out here, and it was like a bolt of lightning. I _had_ to come; I couldn't not see you again."

She didn't know what to say - how could she? The future King of Panem had just stood there -

_The future King of Panem. __That_ was precisely why it was ridiculous.

She nodded slightly to herself, thankful for the reminder. She quickly disentangled herself from his arms, stepped back even as he opened his mouth to protest. "You shouldn't be dancing with me, Peeta. Look at how we met. I'm nothing but a thief, a Seam Rat, remember? It's not right."

"I don't care about that," he argued, his voice suddenly hot and determined. "You can't tell me you're not feeling what I'm feeling."

"I do," Katniss said quietly. "And that's exactly why I need to walk away. It's the best for both of us, I promise. Thank you for the dance." She turned and walked away and didn't look back; it was better that way.

* * *

_He scoured news broadcasts, watched reels of newspapers - older and more brittle than even he - asked questions he probably should not have been asking._

_But he'd begun piecing things together, here and there, across the afternoon - a boy's disappearance, and a monkey that would only respond to the boy's name. An old woman, mute for years, suddenly vibrantly verbose. The abrupt end to the Hunger Games (something he secretly wished were still in existence, but he kept those thoughts to himself). The unexpected appearance of birds known as Mockingjays, the way Caesar Flickerman seemingly looked ten years younger overnight and hadn't aged a day since. The list grew endless. And every time, every instance he found, there was photographic evidence of at least one of four people._

_One of them, right now, was frozen on the projector screen in front of him. Lank dark hair. Rheumy grey eyes. A slight paunch and a flask in hand, in the main square of District Twelve. With a girl who perfectly fit the Peacekeepers description of the thief Peeta Mellark had let go in One._

_With a triumphant look in his eyes, Advisor Snow rose to his feet from behind his desk. It looked like a visit to the slums of Panem was in order._

* * *

There was one single house, next door to the Mayor, that was specifically for guests of the Capitol. It was small - it was rarely required for an overnight stay - but perfectly appointed with thick, heavy drapes, plump sofas and crystal doorknobs on every single door. Secretly, Peeta thought it was ostentatious and ridiculous in such a poor district. Publicly, he put on a smile, thanked the Mayor and retired to his room. The night had left him exhausted, and even the feel of Katniss in his arms and her warm breath on his cheek couldn't invigorate him right now. The way they'd parted weighed too heavily on him, the way she'd walked away without even a second glance.

Stripping off his shirt, he crossed to the small powder room, splashed his face, brushed his teeth until his mouth frothed with white bubbles. He rinsed, then turned back to his room, running his hands through his hair until it almost stood on end. He was surprised to see Aaran perched on the corner of the bed, his comm screen in his hands and wariness clear on his face.

"What's up? Mom bothering you again?" Peeta asked. He nodded to the screen while he stepped towards the small suitcase he'd packed and pulled out a pair of long, soft cotton pants. "Aaran?"

"Who was that girl you were dancing with tonight?" Aaran asked abruptly.

Peeta stopped in the process of pulling off the slacks he wore, one leg still confined in the fabric. "I danced with a few of the local girls, as did you," he said smoothly. "Why do you ask?" He finished taking the pants off, and threw them across the back of a velvet armchair, slipping his sleep pants on. Aaran hadn't budged, still continued to stare down at the screen. Peeta folded his arms across his bare chest. "Aaran?"

Finally his brother looked up, an odd look on his face. "There was only one girl you danced with, Peeta, anyone could see it. The others were just an obligation. Who is she?"

Peeta sighed. _Had it really been that obvious? _"Her name is Katniss," he murmured sadly.

"And you've met her before," Aaran surmised, his eyes shrewd. Aaran may have been a jokester, a bit of a smart ass, but he very rarely had the wool pulled over his eyes. "It's the girl you let go in One, isn't it?"

Peeta didn't say anything for a moment, instead weighing his options against telling the truth or not. But while he and Aaran occasionally kept things from each other, they never lied. "Yes," he said finally.

Aaran sighed. "Then that may explain why I received notice that Advisor Snow is arriving by hovercraft first thing in the morning - and the photographic reason was this." He turned his screen around, and clear as day Peeta could see an image of Katniss and Haymitch Abernathy in the square, the same image he'd spied on the news broadcast that had inspired him to come.

"Why?" Peeta asked, his heart beginning to thud heavily. "I dealt with the situation in One, there shouldn't be anything more for him to do."

Aaran ran a hand down the screen, re-reading the words in the notice. "Apparently it's a matter of Panem 'national security'," Aaran said, then looked back at his brother again. "What do you even know about this girl, anyway?"

Peeta slumped into the armchair, rested his elbows on his knees so that his arms hung loosely between them. "Enough to know that, once again, Snow is bullshitting." He shook his head. "You know as well as I do he twists the truth to meet his needs - you've seen it, Ethen's seen it. Mother has, but she encourages it. It's only Father who is oblivious."

Aaran shrugged. "I don't know, Peeta. I don't know her. Why would he do something like that about this girl? Why would Snow even care about her unless it was for a reason?"

Peeta pursed his lips, unsure what to say. Aaran was right. There were plenty of things he _didn't_ know about her - but was whatever it was really that bad for Snow to come out to Twelve? Did he really need to venture out into the Districts, something the man hadn't done for as long as Peeta had known him? He wanted to blurt all these questions out, but he knew Aaran didn't know the answers any more than he did. So he didn't ask any of them, only mumbled an excuse that he was tired and needed to sleep.

After Aaran left, Peeta waited until the moon was a little higher in the sky and the house was silent save for the snoring that echoed up the stairs from one of the guards rooms. Only then did he slip from his bed, quickly dress and steal from the house into the night. It didn't matter that it was past midnight; because if he waited until morning, it would be too late.

If there was something he needed to know about Katniss, he was determined to find out what it was before Snow got to her. And he _wouldn't_ let her turn him away.

* * *

_A/N - Thank you for reading, for your reviews, follows and favourites :)_


End file.
